Winning Her Heart Once More(H/L)
by Vergere
Summary: After the events of the ongoing war with the Yuuzhan Vong splinter Han and Leia's relationship, Han becomes determined to mend the wounds. His intentions are in the right place, but can he still win Leia back like he did all those years ago on Dathomir?


Title: Winning Her Heart Once More  
Setting: Immediately after New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos, Jedi Eclipse  
Disclaimer: None of the characters or locations used in this fanfiction were created by me, only the situation. The first scene of this is excerpted directly from Chapter Twenty-Eight, page 345 of JE, just to refresh you minds.  
Author's Notes: At the time I wrote this, I was dying for Han and Leia to reconcile, so, I decided to make a fic of it! Any response will be greatly appreciated, thank you.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Will Droma be remaining with his clanmates?"   
  
"Yeah, the way I figure it, we're about even."   
  
"So where does that leave you, Han?"   
  
"I'm not sure. What about you–are you finally home for good?"   
  
"I'm leaving this afternoon for Duro."   
  
"Same old Princess Leia," he said with a sneer. "Then I guess it doesn't matter where I end up."   
  
She narrowed her eyes for the cam. "Same old Han Solo."   
  
He tried to lighten the moment with a laugh. "We are a pair, aren't we?"   
  
"I don't know, Han. You tell me."   
  
His eyes flashed. "Well, look, be sure to let me know what planet SELCORE decides on."   
  
"Anything to help the refugees," Leia said with counterfeit good humor.   
  
"That's what I've been saying all along."   
  
Leia folded her arms. "In that case, our paths are bound to cross one of these days."   
  
"I don't know, sweetheart, it's a big galaxy."   
  
"Only as big as you make it," she said, deactivating the comm.   
  
  
-Part I-  
Han stood at the console, staring at the area of space that had occupied his wife just a second before. She had cut him off.   
She had cut him off long ago, he realized with regret, but there wasn't anything he could do about that now. He had a ship full of refugees that he had an obligation to deliver safely to where ever SELCORE provided coordinates for. This wasn't the time to be running after lost loves. War wasn't that lenient.  
  
He whirled around at the soft laugh that arose from the doorway behind him. It was Roa. The one time smuggler leaned against the doorframe, a look of amusement molded onto his weathered features.  
  
"What's so funny?" Han asked, anger welling up in him. He was already high strung about his latest talk with Leia, he wasn't in the mood to be laughed at–especially by an old friend who he had just done a humongous favor for.   
  
"You."   
  
"Me?" Han motioned to himself in mock disbelief, his face retracting into a sour expression.  
  
"Yes."  
  
There was a silence in which both men stared at the other, for no other reason than for lack of words. At least that was why Han was silent. The elder man seemed to scrutinize him.   
  
"Wanna tell me why I'm so amusing to you?" Han bit out as he began to push past the older man.   
  
"You're so stubborn, Han Solo. I was never one to give man-to-man talks or all that, but listen to me this time; you can't afford to lose her."  
  
Han parted his lips, fire in his eyes. "Why should I take this advice of yours?" he asked moodily.  
  
"Because it's the only advice you *have*," Roa smiled.  
  
"I don't need advice right now," Han insisted under his breath, and shoved his way out into the hall. "I need coordinates and I need a place to drop these people." He motioned to the aft, where he and Droma had herded the refugees.  
  
"You don't *think* you need advice, but you do." It wasn't a suggestion, or even a command, just simply a knowing statement.  
  
"Look," Han cocked his head to the right, "You're hardly in the position to offer advice. The way I see it, I just saved your life. You should owe me by shutting up." Sure, the retort had been a little harsh, but he wasn't in the mood to be gentle right now.  
  
Roa, seeing that this was leading to a brawl, decided to let the topic drop. "Fine, I'll go. But please just remember that this is war. No one is invulnerable to death–even the ones that have survived this long. She won't always be there to run to." He laid a hand on Han's shoulder only to have it shaken off roughly.  
  
The elder took his leave, and Han decided against following him back up to the cockpit. Instead, he re-entered the communications room and plopped heavily into the chair that was bolted to the deck. Why did Roa have to come in and make him think about this situation? It's not like he was the only one causing this rift. Leia seemed just as content to let him go his own way.   
  
Didn't she?   
  
He recalled the strained look of hope in her eyes that had diminished as their conversation had dragged on. And what about the nonchalant way that she suggested they might bump into each other?  
  
He shook his head from the uncertain thoughts. Who knew whether he was making her reactions up or not? His fist came down hard on the armrest. Why was he even entertaining that thought? [I feel like some inexperienced adolescent in love. This is insane.] He turned to leave and found his nose only inches away from black mustachios.  
  
"Hey Han, where are we off to now?" Droma straightened from his hunched over position.   
  
Han glared laser bolts at the Ryn, his partner of the last few months, swallowing the smart remark that barely reached his lips.  
  
No, he was not his partner. He didn't have a partner anymore.  
  
"Well, I just got word that the Hapan cruisers are offering to round up the refugees on one cruiser and transport them like that..." he trailed off. "Anything wrong?" Droma asked with innocence. He was obviously enjoying seeing Han Solo squirm.  
  
"Wrong? Of course not," he scoffed.   
  
"How was your talk with Leia?" Droma asked, fishing around.   
  
"Fine." Han took off for the cockpit quickly, wishing the Ryn weren't so quick to match his pace.   
  
"You know, since your duties to me have been payed back in full, you can finally go home to her."  
  
"She's not going to be home," Han stated sharply. "And I have other things to do besides run after her while she's crusading from one to another refugee camp."   
  
"Have it your way–"  
  
"That's right. My way," Han pointed to himself fiercely. Ever since this entire Yuuzhan Vong catastrophe had begun, it had felt like he'd been thrown back into his former life. The galaxy was as unstable as ever. Doing things his way had worked before, and it would do for now, as   
well.  
  
  
  
  
"So, where do you go from here?" Han asked casually, his stiff demeanor contradictory. He stood at the foot of the ramp that led up into Roa's ship.  
  
"Somewhere there's money. I saw job adds on the Holonet for cargo runners to and from the camps. Maybe I'll head that way," Roa answered.   
  
"Well, take care, buddy. Maybe I'll see you around."   
  
"It's a big galaxy, Han." He alluded to Han's own remark to Leia.   
  
Han responded with gritted teeth. "Nice, Roa. Real nice."   
  
"Just think about what I said, will you?"   
  
"I've already thought about it, and I'm not going after her," he said the statement so as to close it from further conversation.   
  
"Fine, then," Roa agreed brusquely.  
  
"Right," Han averted his eyes momentarily, caught off guard by the other's abruptness. "Well, have a good time out there, Roa. Don't go getting yourself into trouble."  
  
The older man's eyes seemed to dwell on him. "Yeah, you too." He turned around hesitatingly, and then trudged up the ramp of his ship without looking back.  
  
  
  
  
"Did you find out where we're going?" Droma asked Han eagerly as the captain of the Millennium Falcon entered the lounge.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, I got it." He tossed a piece of flimsi to the group of Ryn gathered together in the lounge. They flocked to the paper as one read the address.  
  
"Coruscant?" Gaph exclaimed.   
  
"Yeah, I got you a real nice place off towards the side...an Alderaanian style apartment complex," Han announced smugly.   
  
"What?!"   
  
"It was built a while back for refugees from Alderaan, but they never took a liking to the place. Leia and I used to go there to get away, but we've got no use for it now. You guys can have the place." He said the last with a tinge of longing.   
  
"Han, this isn't necessary," Droma stepped forward.   
  
"Yes, it is. The only other place for you guys to live is the new camps they're setting up on Duro...and we all know they aren't going to be first class. You're my friends, and you're gonna be treated right."   
Another spoke up, "We don't want to infringe on your property..."  
  
"You're not."   
  
Droma looked back to the eager faces in the huddle of Ryn. "Well..."   
  
"Take it, folks," Han encouraged, "It's the best that your getting offered."   
  
The Ryn gathered into a semi-circle, murmurs of discussion arising. Gaph turned and approached Han as the other Ryn quieted.  
  
"We accept, but only on the condition that we are in debt to you, and that debt stands until it is paid off as we see fit."   
  
Han had to catch himself from falling. "No. No debt. I'm not asking for payment." Memories of Chewbacca's first announcement of a life debt ran through his head.   
  
"But, we do not take freely–" Gaph tried to explain.   
  
"You are this time. No debt." He said the words as a command.   
  
Gaph was about to protest once more when Droma took him aside. Han's ears perked up. He thought he heard the word 'Wookiee.'   
  
"Fine then. Our debt to you will be to free you of our debt."   
  
Han raised an eyebrow. "As long as we're even, that's fine."   
  
The Ryn started up a song and dance, celebrating the news of a new home.   
  
"Better strap in," Han warned as he headed to the cockpit with Droma, "Take off is in a few minutes."  
  
  
  
  
Since he had transferred the other refugees to a Hapan vessel bound for home, Han only had the Ryn to drop off.   
  
[And that had been quick and painless,] he reflected.   
  
So now he sat, headed for Lando's, of all places. But there was no where else to go, and he could use a place to stay for a while until things blew over and settled down. Han reached over to flip on the comm screen and dial in Lando 's current frequency, which was his ever-ready backup location of Varn, the planet where he and Tendra had set up a tourist attracting mining facility.  
  
Static resolved itself quickly into the features of his long time friend.   
  
"Han!" Han noted silently that his friend's usually vibrant smile was a bit tighter than usual.  
"Hi, Lando."   
  
"What're you calling here for?"   
  
"I was wondering if you had a spare docking pad I could occupy for a while."  
  
"Of course, always for you," Lando smiled his most charming smile, and Han proceeded to roll his eyes.   
  
"Always the businessman," he commented dryly.   
  
"I'll ready a room for you...Is Leia coming?" he asked, tentatively.   
  
"No," he answered, as if bringing his wife was the most ridiculous of ideas.   
  
Lando raised his eyebrows. "I thought you would've picked her up by now..."   
  
"Why would I do that? You know we're not having the best of times." His voice roughened, unaccustomed to talking about the conflict with his wife.  
  
"I'm surprised you haven't heard anything yet. There was a crash on Duro–"   
  
"Crash? What happened?" he pressed, sitting forward a little more.   
  
"The main refugee ship she was traveling on was attacked by a few stray coralskippers. They were waiting for them in the Duro system. Many of the passengers were injured, I heard that Leia suffered a minor concussion. One of the smaller ships didn't make it; Leia's luckily limped to the ground with the five others. I think she's still being held in the makeshift med facility there." Lando looked intently to Han, his gaze a bit off center through all the hyperspace relays. "Han?" he prompted.   
  
"Yeah...she's okay though?" he asked. his eyes reflecting worry.   
  
"I don't know, it just happened a day or two ago. I haven't heard any follow up reports yet," he paused. "You still coming?"   
  
"Uh...yeah, sure. Leia can take care of herself, and she has a handful of doctors at the med center, no doubt. I'm still coming." The words were said to assure himself more than to assure Lando.  
  
Lando looked at his friend with caution."You sure, Han? You look kinda worried to me–"   
  
"No, I'm coming," he bit out sharply. He wasn't worried about her; Leia was the most independent women he had ever met, she could make do without him there.   
  
"Ok," the other accepted readily, having no intent of starting an argument. "When will you be here?"   
  
"I'm right outside Coruscant now, probably in a few days, give or take."   
  
"Great, Han. I'll see you then." He signed off, leaving Han's heart and pride debating back and forth.   
  
  
  
  
The screen went blank before him, and Han reached over to turn it off. His heart was racing. He had almost lost her.   
  
Up until now, he had never thought of life without Leia, even when Chewie died. She would always be there, helping to build a government, or trying to persuade a political enemy to see her way, or to save helpless refugees. But now it was becoming clear to him that everything he had once found himself so sure of had been set off balance.  
  
Echoes of her first confession of caring ran through his thoughts.   
  
"I know," he whispered, as he had then. "I know!" he affirmed louder, only to hear his words dissipate quickly into empty air.   
  
He had to win her back, he had to show her he still loved her. His mind searched for a way to do this, and it clicked almost instantly. He would do the exact same thing that had made her fall in love with him the first time. But this time, he would do it right. No mysterious Force planets, no running into new allies or old friends. Just them.   
  
Han quickly turned on the Holonet, searching for an out of the way planet that Leia would love to visit.   
  
  
  
It was dead silent inside of the infirmary hallways. The only light source consisted of dull yellow light strips that ran the length of the walls.   
  
Han slipped into a private room to his right, as subtle as the dancing shadows he made. It was completely dark in the room, and he took infrared goggles out of his bag and placed them over his eyes. He could now easily make out the form of his sleeping wife.   
  
He took a cloth out of his bag and wet it with a few drops of a sleeping drug. At first he had decided against this method, but Leia was too capable of alerting security. Placing the cloth over her nose and mouth, Han counted out the instructed twenty-five seconds. He then took the cloth, stuffed it back into his bag, and searched Leia's body for any IVs or monitor hookups.   
  
None, he couldn't believe his luck. Automatically, he warned himself against such thoughts of victory. He wouldn't be successful until he had taken off with the Falcon and was far away from this pollution-scarred planet. Han eased his hands under her back and lifted her into his arms. He would have to hurry to get back to the ship, cameras were placed in every room, as were body heat monitors.  
  
It was hard to concentrate with her so close again.   
  
Han forced his attention to more immediate matters. In addition to the cameras, the smoke bomb scare he had orchestrated on the opposite side of the center wasn't going to last for long.   
  
When he got to the Falcon, Han's burning arms were relieved to be free of Leia. He wasn't as young and strong as he once was, he thought grimly.   
  
He strapped her safely into the nicest bunk on the old YT-1300, regretful that he couldn't get his hands on a nicer ship. She had always hated traveling in this ship. But with a sudden rush of business due to the war, ship lots had been exhausted of all presentable transports. At least he had given the ship a well-needed scrubbing. Han sat back on his heels and looked at her. She had aged a lot in the past few months.   
  
But then again, they all had. Fighting war after war did that to you.   
  
Suddenly realizing that security would soon be on the lookout for Leia Organa Solo, and that with the Millennium Falcon in the ship registry his pad would be the first searched, Han jumped into action. He powered up the ship for takeoff and got clearance from traffic control. Raising the ship on her repulsor coils, he turned on the sublight drives and aimed for the sky.   
  
  
  
  
Han was dozing on and off in the cockpit, his breathing in rhythm with the soft beep of the hyperdrive system status alert. He was just beginning to fall into a deep sleep when a shriek from the direction of the bunks awoke him with a start.   
  
His nerves came into play instantaneously, sending him into a half spin, half jump, that landed him hard on the metal floor. On the way down, his right foot, which had been resting on the console before him, managed to become caught between the chair and the console itself, sending him down headfirst. All in all, Han took this as a sign of things to come.   
  
"Han!" came the sharp bark from the aft.  
  
He quickly picked himself up and casually sat back down in the pilot's chair, preparing his ears for the worst.   
  
"Han!" The muffled shouts grew much louder as the door to the cockpit slid open. "Han how could you?! You can't do this! Not now! Not when this many lives are dependant on me! We're in the middle of a galactic crisis, the refugees–"  
  
"Will be taken care of by the other volunteers," he finished calmly. He tried tossing a lopsided smile to calm her, but she didn't accept it, and so he plodded on. "Leia, we were in the middle of a war the first time. This time is no diff–"   
  
"Yes, it is! Take me back!" She stared him straight in the eyes, her hands on her hips, her face presenting the expression that had made him fall in love with her. For good measure, she made sure to stomp her foot hard on the metal flooring.   
  
"Leia–"   
  
"*Take me back!*"   
He opened his mouth to retort, but instead just responded a simple, "No."   
  
"What?! Han this isn't a game! People relied on me being there! I'm the head of a committee that's helping to turn that world from a ecological disaster into a home for the refugees. You can't whisk me off the way you did before. I won't stand for it!"   
  
He looked to her with wide eyes, plastering on his face his best pitiful expression. "Give me two weeks."   
  
Her gaze pounded him, her eyes blazing with anger. "No, I cannot afford two weeks. You *know* that."  
  
"Leia, please..."   
  
She paused, noticing that the cockpit smelled distinctly of cleaning solution. Had he done this for her? "Han, how can I?" she questioned softly, her throat suddenly closing with emotion.  
  
"Can't you find it in your heart to give me a chance?" he asked coldly, averting his eyes.  
  
Her expression softened, but not into one of understanding. "How can I?" she asked again, the words obviously paining her. "We're as far apart as we were when we met. I don't even know you anymore."   
  
"Well, we can get to know each other again." He smiled with hope, although she couldn't see.  
  
"Han, just take me back to Duro," she whispered, her arms sliding to hang at her sides. "Please, take me back." Her request was more of a plea than a demand.   
  
He heard the plea as well, and pain stabbed through his heart. [She doesn't want to even be near me...]   
  
"No, Leia." he answered, his throat dry.   
  
"Han Solo, take me back this instant!"she screamed, the ephemeral moment of calm broken.   
  
"No. I won't," he stood his ground stubbornly, "You have to at least give me one chance."   
  
She glared at him with such fire that it would melt ice. He wanted to glance away, but commanded his eyes to look back. "What did you do to the Noghri?" she asked.   
  
"I didn't see them."   
  
She narrowed her eyes accusingly at him. "They would never leave me unguarded, you know that. What did you do with them?"   
  
"I swear, Leia. They weren't there. They might have been dealing with the bomb scare–" he stopped abruptly, but it was already too late.  
  
"What bomb scare?" she sighed heavily with agitation.   
  
"Uh...nothing...?" Han averted his gaze again.  
"Han, you created a *bomb scare*?" Her thumb and index finger rubbed the bridge of her nose.   
  
"It didn't hurt anyone," he was quick to assure her, "It was just a distraction so I could–"   
  
"So you could kidnap me! Wonderful, Han, you're now in trouble with the law on two accounts!"   
  
"It's not like I haven't been there before!" He defended, angry this time, pointing out, "Like *we* haven't been there before!"   
  
She balled her fists in frustration, looked for something to hit. Han glanced around, spotting many things that she shouldn't hit, and then he was pushed back hard in his chair, the wind knocked out of him. "Leia!" he wheezed. The oppressive force diminished quickly. He looked at her for an explanation, but she looked away, ashamed.   
  
"Fine. Two weeks," she consented quietly, then looked up sharply. "But no longer. And I expect to be back in *exactly* two weeks. And we have to notify SELCORE of my leave."   
  
He protested. "No notifying anyone."  
  
"We have to, Han. They'll think I'm dead."   
  
"All for the better. We don't need the Holonet reporters watching our every move."   
  
"Han we can't let resources be wasted on a search team while I can easily notify them of my whereabouts," she reasoned.   
  
"They can figure it out, I'm sure there are cameras that caught me," he assured. "We don't need reporters on our tales. I'm not notifying anyone of where we are."   
  
Her lips formed a tight line, and her face reddened a touch. "Fine," she bit out. She would pick that fight later. "So where are we going?"   
  
"That's for me to know, and you to find out," he smiled lopsidedly, but again she didn't take to it well. [She would have before,] he thought grumpily. Instead, she sighed dramatically and marched further into the ship without saying another word.   
  
As the door slid closed and silence descended upon the cockpit once more, Han grimaced to himself. Things were already off to a rocky start.   
  
  
  
  
Han looked up from his plate of food. A single old fashioned candle was lit and set in the center of the Falcon's game table, a plate of food on either side of it. Leia's plate was already clean, the glass beside it dry. He sighed heavily, and took another bite of his food. He had never really taken to the Alderaanian dish, but there was nothing else besides ration bars to eat and he was hungry.   
  
Leia had seemed to like the meal, despite the silence treatment she was giving Han. No sooner had she been lured out of the cabin to eat than she had left him sitting alone without a word. He stuffed the last bit of food unceremoniously into his mouth and stood up. He gathered the plates and silverware, blowing out the flame of the candle as he leaned over for her glass.   
  
At least tomorrow they would arrive at their destination.   
  
  
  
  
Han had decided to sleep in the cockpit, and Leia had heartily agreed. He was just about to get settled in when he remembered that he hadn't bade her a good night. He didn't pretend to know how exactly she would respond after the cold treatment he had received from her at dinner, but he had to try.  
  
He slowed as he approached her closed door, and knocked softly.   
  
Silence met him as a response, and Han was just about to leave when her muffled answer met his ears. "Come in."   
  
He worked the door controls and the barrier slide aside to allow him in. The small room was dark, and Han could make out Leia's profile laying on the low bunk by the light from the corridor. "I...uh...just wanted to say goodnight," he stammered, his throat suddenly parched. "We'll arrive late tomorrow morning...just so you know." Silently, he cursed his fumbled words.   
  
The stillness resumed. "Goodnight, Han," Leia answered at last, her words void of emotion.   
  
He growled in frustration and turned to leave, but he turned back once more. "I love you," he confessed in such a way as only Han Solo could.   
  
He waited for an answer, but received none this time. After a time, he turned back to the cockpit.   
  
  
  
  
-Part II-  
Leia could feel the warmth of the sunlight streaming down upon her cheeks. She treasured the moment of peace, knowing that it wouldn't last for long.   
  
After a moment, she forced herself to sit up and open her eyes. Glancing at the chrono, she realized that it was still early. Han would definitely still be asleep. She sighed in relief and threw back the light covers, her feet already taking her to the window.   
  
She turned the latch on the lock and watched the clear shutters slowly spread apart. She leaned out, breathing in the sea air. It was a beautiful day. The sky was a bright green-blue, with the cries of birds resounding throughout the warm air. The water was calm. Leia reached down to touch it, but her fingertips were shy a few inches.   
  
Looking out over the sea, she studied the other floating guesthouses rocking calmly on the waves. No one was up yet, at least as far as she could gather. The floor under her lurched slightly, and Leia grabbed onto the window sill for fear of falling. Looking back down to the water, she smiled at a fairly young cy'een that had bumped up against their house. It looked up at her with curious eyes before diving back down into the water to join its herd.   
  
Leia looked out to the horizon, wishing that she were on Duro, despite her happiness at the moment. She wondered if they were looking for her, or had indeed came to the conclusion Han had provided. She wondered if the refugees had been given a place to stay yet. It had been nine standard days since Han had whisked her away. That meant there were only five more days to survive––one of which would be spent traveling. Leia pulled her hair over one shoulder and began loosening the tangles with her fingers. It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed being with Han––she had. But it was so hard to let go of her hostility to love him again. It was so hard to forget the words he had said so harshly those tense-filled afternoons...  
  
Could she ever forgive him for that? Could she ever forget?  
  
She had to admit that he was trying his hardest. He really was. They had been to and participated in all of the tourist attractions Chad Three had to offer, he always had a meal cooked for dinner, he always had breakfast cooked in the morning. It made her feel like a princess. Leia shook her head at the irony of that thought.   
  
But all this pampering didn't make her feel in love with him. Not the way that she always had been. It didn't make her feel comfortable with him.  
  
She knew part of it was her mind fighting her heart. But she couldn't help it––how was she to know that he would stay once she had forgiven him? And how was she to confirm that the words and their bitterness would fade with time?  
  
The worst times were at night. She had come to dread the time when he would say, "I love you." She couldn't bring herself to say it back. Not until she felt it back. And she could feel the hurt radiate off of him every time silence met his question.   
  
She wouldn't lie, though.   
  
Leia turned her head to the sound of boots approaching her doorway. They stopped for a moment, as if he were deciding whether to knock or not, and then moved on towards the kitchen.   
  
  
  
  
"So how did you sleep last night?" Han asked, breaking the silence that had descended upon the table.   
  
Leia swallowed the bite of food that she had been chewing and asked the responding question she had always asked at this moment for the past nine days. "Fine. You?"   
  
"Wonderful," he smiled. She smiled back and picked up her glass to take a sip of local fruit juice.   
  
"What?" she asked, noticing his eyes dwelling on her.   
  
"Why won't you talk to me?" he asked frankly.   
"I am."   
  
"No. Talk like we used to."   
  
She sighed. "Things have changed, Han. They aren't like they used to be."   
  
"But they can be," he offered.   
  
Leia shook her head doubtfully. "Maybe."   
  
"Do you still love me?" His eyes pierced hers, and she couldn't look away.   
  
"I–" her words caught in her throat, and she forced her gaze from his.   
  
"Do you?" he whispered, a flame of hope dancing in his words.   
  
"I...don't know, Han. Not like I did five years ago. I'll never fall out of love with you, but love..." she searched for the right word, wishing that she didn't have to explain this. "Changes. Fades," she supplied.   
  
"What is stopping you, Leia? Don't you remember–"   
  
"Of course I do, Han! But those memories have become torture!" Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. "Add to those the other memories...All the good times mix with the bad anymore. We're so far from where we started."   
  
He paused, knowing exactly what other memories she was talking about. Then, reaching across the table, tipped her chin to see her eyes. "But we aren't. If you dig deep enough, we aren't all that different from what we started as. What made you choose me over Isolder?"   
  
"I...You..." she searched for the feelings that she had held for him then. They weren't all that hard to find, after all. But then with each of these feelings came a flashback to their many arguments.   
  
To her utter dismay, Han smiled his famous lopsided smile. "Don't," she shook her head.   
  
"Don't what?"   
  
She didn't answer, instead taking another bite of food.   
  
"Leia?" Han asked. She retained her silence. "We're going back tomorrow morning," he sat back casually, prepared to take in her reaction. [One of delight, no doubt,] he assumed cynically.  
  
"But you still have five days," she looked up in surprise.   
  
"Yeah, but we're getting no where here. The New Republic needs you. You're not mine to take."   
  
She should have felt elated at his news, but she didn't. She wanted to stay, to be with him. But instead of voicing these thoughts, Leia simply agreed. It wasn't like any revelations were to come of being here. "That's fine. I'm sure there is a lot of work waiting for me."   
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he agreed. "So we'll leave early to get a head start...we should be back in the core the same day." His tone rang with false happiness.  
"What are the plans for today?" she asked, changing the subject.   
  
"I thought we could go cy'een watching, it's supposed to be migrating season. We can rent a boat and go out on the water."   
  
"That sounds nice. I saw a young one this morning, it came up to our house."   
  
Our house. How inviting were those words? How frightening, as well?  
  
"Really?" I thought they were wild." It was amazing how simple it was to keep such a distant conversation alive.   
  
"Me too," she smiled. "I guess the young ones are a little more reckless."   
  
"Maybe they just have more spirit!" he defended with an indignant expression. Leia just sighed, her features relaxing into a reminiscent smile.   
  
  
  
  
Han steered the rented fishing boat towards the horizon, his fingers already accustomed to the drastically out of date controls. He worked them deftly, his eyes studying his wife's profile as she looked out to the water ahead.   
  
['Wife' in the most standard of senses,] he thought dryly. She wasn't his wife, not anymore. Of course, he couldn't blame her. He remembered their many arguments just as well as she did, though his memories were tainted with the taste of alcohol.   
  
He sighed, trying his best to mask his frustration from her. He yearned to touch her hair; to let down the tightly wrapped bun and see it flow down her back like he had done so many times previous. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted grey hairs throughout the chestnut brown. [What else have I missed?] he asked himself.   
  
His eyes followed to her own, wan and tired. Crow's feet made them appear heavy and older than he ever thought they could become. She was so different from what he always pictured her as. The constant determination in her eyes had lessened to the point of almost non-existence. The fullness of her cheeks had faded as well. Leia *wasn't* a princess anymore, and he had missed it. [I had to be so stubborn,] he berated himself.   
  
He studied her lips, anxious to caress them with his. It was as if their marriage had been a dream dreamt a lifetime ago. [We are worse off now than when we started off as strangers on that Death Star,] he realized.   
  
She stirred, and he averted his eyes quickly, making sure that it seemed as if he were studying the controls, not wishing for the past.   
  
  
  
  
As Leia stood up to look at her fully packed bags with satisfaction, there came a knock at her door. "Come in."   
  
The door opened and Han stepped into the room. "You're all packed up?"   
  
"Yep, just finished," Leia answered shortly.  
  
"That's good." He said. It wasn't good at all, it was bad. He took a deep breath, obviously not comfortable. "So, I guess we'll leave at sun-up?"   
  
She thought for a moment, tossing figures around in her head. "Yes, that will get us back in good time."   
  
"Okay, then. See you in the morning." He dismissed their conversation abruptly and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he hesitated, his hand catching on the frame. He spun around to face her. "I love you. You know that." The words came out in a rush, and he was surprised that he had even said them.   
  
Leia turned her head to the side, her pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't dare speak, for she knew her voice would give away the emotion she was trying to hide. Once she was sure that her voice would stay strong, Leia spoke in a harsh, bare whisper, "Goodnight, Han."   
  
He didn't bother to respond verbally. Instead, he left, leaving Leia to jump at the sound of the door slamming in his wake.   
  
  
  
  
[flashback]   
Leia held back a sigh as she stepped into the foyer of the apartment, her mood apprehensive as she noticed the silence that permeated the home. The word 'home' didn't really seem to fit anymore. Without Han's good natured jokes and the kids' laughter, Home seemed as far away as victory was.  
  
As she walked briskly into the kitchen, Leia noticed her husband sitting in the dark at the table.  
  
"How was your day, Han?" Leia asked tentatively. They had to at least talk to each other–she couldn't just have him sitting there alone. He didn't answer her, his eyes staring off into a world she couldn't see.   
  
She stepped closer to him, holding out a hand to touch his shoulder. It was then that she noticed two bottles of Corellian whiskey strewn across the table, puddles of the alcohol forming.   
  
He jumped, shaking her hand off. His head snapped around to look at her, his eyes accusing. "What do you want?"  
  
She had expected his words to slur, had expected him to be drunk yet again, but the effects must have worn off hours ago. "I just wanted to know how your day was," she answered, steeling her composure.  
  
"If you must know," he drew out saucily, "It was pretty damn bad."  
  
[Well, then.] "I'm sorry," was all she could think of to say. "Mine was trying."  
  
"I didn't ask about you," he shot back.  
  
Leia's brow furrowed with hurt. "So have you just been sitting here all day?" She asked, masking her frustration and oncoming tears.  
  
"For your information, no. I had a nice Sabacc game earlier on, got a few rounds of drinks in the underworld. All in all, a pretty successful day." His voice was laced and filled to the brim with sarcasm.   
  
"I didn't ask to be mocked, Han Solo. You could at least be civilized." Her eyes narrowed, the back of her mind hoping the children weren't home.  
  
"Yeah, well I didn't ask for this kind of life, but I got it anyway."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You know, I had a chance with a wonderful girl," his eyes looked off into the distance as he tipped his chair back. Leia breathed deeply, resolving to not allow his words to cut through her. He went on. "Yeah, her name was Bria. Bria Tharen."  
  
Why was he doing this to her? Leia turned to leave, but he was up in a flash, holding her shoulders firmly. "I loved her," he grinned darkly. "We had a wonderful chance at life."  
  
Leia looked away. "Han, let me go."  
  
He continued. "Her hair was a beautiful red. Just gorgeous," he breathed, the stench of alcohol causing Leia to wrinkle her nose in disgust."I always thought I would have had a better life with her..."  
  
Leia's eyes widened as she inhaled deeply. She twisted out of his grip with horror and began to flee the apartment. He followed her, stopping her at the door. "You know, she loved me."  
  
"What are you suggesting?" Leia asked harshly. "I love you, too."  
  
"Do you?" He took hold of her arm, his fingers digging into her tissue. He raised his voice dramatically, "I just can't tell who you love more! Me and your family, or that damned government you keep slaving for!"   
  
"Han, you know I love you and the kids."  
  
"Do I, Leia?" He challenged, "Do I *really*?"  
  
She stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. "I thought you did."   
  
"You know, all day I've been thinking, 'What if I had just allowed that bratty princess on the Death Star to stay in her cell?'" His lips pursed with anger. "And you know what?"  
  
He waited for her to respond. She didn't, but he went on anyway. "She would have died. And I wouldn't have cared, 'cause Chewie'd be here with me, and I wouldn't have any obligations at all." He sighed wistfully. "No obligations. Wouldn't that be nice, Leia? I wouldn't have to run after a spoiled princess all my life. I wouldn't have to be rescued by her wonderful government time after time because I've been kidnaped because of her. You know how much trouble you've caused me in the past years?" He asked innocently.  
  
"I hate you," she spat.   
  
"Yeah, well, the feeling's mutual," he assured her, waltzing back to the kitchen. Leia knew she should have left, but she followed him.  
  
"Is that all, Han? Is it?! Do you have *fun* torturing me like that?!" Her words were thrown at him with fire.   
  
"Well actually," he paused to take a sip of a freshly opened bottle of whiskey. "Yes. Yes I do."  
  
Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. She had to be strong. "How dare you," she swallowed, turning to leave.   
  
There was a flicker of her danger sense, and she jumped out of the way just as a bottle of whiskey flew into the wall, the glass bursting with ear shattering abruptness, the liquid contents splashing to bathe their surroundings. Leia looked down to her dress and saw the blue material drenched and yellowed.   
  
"Damn," Han said from behind her. "Now I've wasted a perfectly good bottle of whiskey on you, too."  
  
Leia fled.  
[/flashback]  
  
  
  
  
Leia threw the covers aside hard, taking out her frustration on them. She had been tossing and turning for hours now, unable to fall into the deep sleep that she knew she needed. Wasn't it enough that these dreams continued to haunt her?   
  
The most infuriating part, she decided, was that it wasn't just the dreams. It was the deep conflict within her heart. She did still love him. She could *feel* herself falling for his smile again. That was why she had told him not to smile at breakfast. It was because it was making her fall in love with him again.   
  
[Why don't I want to love him?] she asked herself. [Because of the words,] she answered herself.  
[But maybe I was just as bad as he...]  
  
She closed her eyes, imagining his arms wrapped around her waist, his breath on her neck. It was the way that he always held her so tight that captured her emotions. So tight that she always felt safe from the Empire, or the bounty hunters, or the assassins. It was the way that she had felt in the carbon freezing chamber that quickened her breathing. She had accepted that she loved him too late, Leia remembered thinking. It was the way that they shared life that caused her nerves to jump, her hands to tremble.   
  
But it was also the way that he had walked away from her, his gait unfaltering, his head never turning back to look at her, that made a fire rise from deep within her and threaten to swallow her love whole. How was she to know that he wouldn't leave her again? It was the way his accusing and harsh words had flowed so easily from his lips. Had she built walls to protect herself from another wound?   
  
[I'm being silly,] she thought as she opened her eyes. Her cheeks were warm, and Leia reached up to find them wet with...tears? Just then, she realized her vision was blurred, and her eyes stung with salt. Every beat of her heart she could feel ripple throughout her entire body, and she felt shivers run down her arms. [Aren't I?]   
  
Her tears came harder as she began to realize that she wanted nothing more than to run to him, to warm herself in his strong embrace, and to make everything right again. As long as they were together, the galaxy would right itself, and if they had fallen in love once, surely they could do it   
again.  
  
[Then why are you procrastinating, Leia Organa Solo?] she asked herself sternly. Bolting upright, she set her feet firmly on the ground and made her way through the darkness to his room.   
  
She approached his closed door and her heart was seized with fear. Would he even accept her apology after the way she had treated him? Leia banished her doubtful thinking and reached for the doorknob with two hands, twisted, and opened the door slowly. She could barely make out the furniture, but she made her way to his sleeping form, hands fluttering everywhere as to not bump into anything.   
Hesitatingly, she knelt by his bedside, leaning over him. She wiped her tears away from her cheeks hastily. With shaking hands, she ran her fingers through his hair, immediately falling into and relishing the softness that she hadn't realized that she missed. She brought her other hand up to cup his face, and he awoke with a start.   
  
"Shh, Han, its me," she whispered, afraid to disturb the night's stillness. He relaxed and covered her hand with his, working their fingers together into one.   
  
"You're trembling," he whispered worriedly.   
  
"I know," she smiled, tears welling in her eyes once more.   
  
"That you're trembling?"   
  
"No. I know that you love me...I love you, too," her voice was giddy with excitement and discovery. He clenched both of her hands now, tighter than before.   
  
"Leia," he breathed.   
  
"I need you–" She was cut off as he reached up for a kiss. One that beheld the innocence of a thousand childhoods, but also yielded the strength of true love. Allowing herself to be overwhelmed with passion, Leia let herself succumb to the symbolic joining, kissing him back and letting all of her pent up emotions flood out.   
  
Han pulled away first. "I love you."   
  
She lay beside him now, and she brought her lips to his ear. "I love you, too," she whispered breathlessly. Han could feel her hot breath close to his skin, and the contact thrilled him. Hugging him close, she looked into his eyes. "Han?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"The New Republic can wait. Let's extend our stay for another week," she suggested.   
  
He smiled, and she melted in his gaze. "I can't think of a better idea," he answered as he slowly started to loosen the braid woven into her long hair.   
  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
Leia rested in Han's arms, the gentle swaying of the small boat they lay in seductive. As she looked dreamily into the black night, searching the stars for familiar patterns, part of her mind was always conscious of the rise and fall of his chest, the muffled beating of his heart. She pulled the soft blanket up around her neck, using it as a barrier from the crisp, cold night air.   
  
"Look," Han raised his arm to point into the sky, gesturing at one of the brightest stars scattered above. "It's Coruscant."   
  
"Yes," Leia agreed, extending her own arm out to point, "And there is Corellia."   
  
"And there," he paused as he altered his finger's position, "Is Yavin."   
  
Leia reached out to move his outstretched hand a little to the right, "There, between those two, is where Alderaan was."   
  
He let his hand drop, taking hers with his, and slid both under the blanket. Leia felt reassurance in his grip.   
  
"I wonder what's happening out there," she thought aloud.   
  
"Things that shouldn't be," he answered.   
  
"Han?"   
  
"Mmm?"   
  
"I'm afraid. Afraid that we won't win this one. Afraid that we don't have the resources, the effort, and spirit to fight."   
  
"Don't be," he whispered, his breath making steam in the cool air, "We can get though anything, you and I."   
  
"But–"   
  
"No buts, Your Highnessness. We've worked all our lives for peace. We can't loose that now." The way he said her nickname was not in bitterness, but in affection.   
  
"There's a saying, 'The more you have, the more you have to lose,'" she quoted.  
  
"Or the more you have to cherish and fight for," he pointed out optimistically.  
  
"But things have already taken a turn for the worst. Chewie–" she caught herself a second too late as she felt conflict rise within Han.   
  
"It's okay, Leia. I have to move on."   
  
"Chewie's death was the beginning of an onslaught of terror," she said quietly. "And that onslaught hasn't lessened yet."   
  
"But it will. It has to. How long can they keep fighting like this?"   
  
"That seems to be the question," she answered solemnly.   
  
"Leia, remember when I won Dathomir for you?" Han asked, changing the subject to a more lighthearted one.   
  
"Yes," she smiled, "And remember how mad I was at you then?"   
  
"Yes," he laughed, "But hey–it worked. And so did this."   
  
"Which all the more proves that we're meant to be together," Leia concluded. "When you left with Droma, Han, I was so mad at you. You didn't seem to care what became of me while you were off jumping from system to system on your little joyride. You won't leave again?"   
  
"No," he answered quickly, jumping on the word. "No, Leia. Never. You're worth so much to me."  
  
"When you left...I was so lost. The apartments felt so empty, and I felt so–so alone. I need you, Han. I can't live without you, no matter what I might have said. Luke and Mara may have a link through the Force, but we have something just as special."   
  
"I know that," he smiled lopsidedly, and she could feel it in his inflection. There was a moment of hesitation. "I'm sorry," he apologized.  
  
"For what?" she asked, although she knew already.  
  
"For the fights. I didn't mean–I didn't *want*–" he struggled with the words, but she gave him time to align his thoughts. "I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't mean to call you those names, I didn't mean to hurt you like that."   
  
She snuggled closer to him, his words heavy in her mind.   
  
"It's not true, you know–the thing I said about Bria..."  
  
"I know it isn't," she answered him, her voice distant.  
  
"Just know it isn't. I did love her, but not nearly as much as I love you, Leia."  
  
"Han, I–"  
  
"Know that, Leia. Please understand." He pressed.  
  
She paused. "I know, Han. But please don't expect me to just forget." Her voice was strained.   
  
"I love you," he repeated, as he had practically every minute since their reunion. Leia smiled.  
  
"I know that, too–"  
  
Suddenly, a small crack interrupted the languid silence. Leia's head jerked up to look at Han. "Did you hear...?"   
  
"Yes," he answered tensely, anticipating her question. Something was amiss, he just had to figure out what. Freezing cold began to creep up his leg, and Han sat up abruptly, forcing Leia to as well, as he realized what had happening. "It's *leaking*!" he exclaimed.   
  
"I think I figured that one out!"   
  
They felt around themselves, gauging how fast the water was coming in. "I think its around a few centimeters high," he estimated.   
  
"What?! Han, the water's freezing! How are we supposed to get back to the house?"   
  
"Swim?" he suggested smartly. She hit him playfully.   
  
"Nice! You're the one that rented it, you said the guy said that this boat didn't leak," she pointed out, already shivering.   
  
"I...it's not my fault!" he answered pathetically.   
  
"Really?" she asked sarcastically.   
  
"Yes!" he threw his arms up in exasperation.   
  
"Well, fix it!"   
  
He yelped, "I can't!"   
  
"I thought you could fix *anything*," she declared with an ironic smile.   
  
"This isn't the Falcon," he excused himself.   
  
"Ah, what good are you!" she punched him exaggeratedly.   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"What? Can't take a little pain?" Leia looked around herself, realizing that they were in the water up to their waists.   
  
"Heh. Funny, funny, Princess." He grinned deviously, and then sent a wave of water in her direction.   
  
"Han!" she shrieked. "You scoundrel! You scruffy-looking...scoundrel!"   
  
"Me?! Scruffy-lookin'?"   
  
"Yes," she smiled sweetly, gathered her strength, and pushed him over the side and into the water. She called out after him, "Scruffy-looking!"   
  
He went under and didn't come back up for a moment. Leia was just about ready to jump in after him, when she felt the boat begin to tip. "Han!" she yelled, her voice echoing into the distance.   
  
She plunged under the surface, a small shock from the cold knocking the wind out of her. She kicked for the surface, breaking the top and inhaling deeply. "I...can't...believe...you," she said in between chattering teeth.   
  
"Me?" he asked innocently, and took off for the guest houses.   
  
"Where are you going?" she called after him.   
  
He didn't answer, instead proposing a contest, "I'll race you there!"   
  
She spent a split second decided whether to go after him or not, but her competitiveness prevailed and Leia shot off after him.   
  
  
  
  
"I beat you!" Han announced proudly as they headed for the refreshers, dripping water everywhere.   
  
"Yeah, well you wait until next time," she promised with ambition in her eyes. They started to part for their separate rooms. Leia stopped dead in her tracks. "And where do you think you're going?"   
  
He looked at her confusedly, noting how the dripping wet strands of hair that clung to her flushed face made her even more beautiful than he thought possible. "...To get a shower?" Where else would he go?   
  
"Alone?" she raised her eyebrows, placing her hands on her hips.   
  
[Of course not.] He smiled and closed the distance between them. "I love you," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek roughly.   
  
She smiled slyly, motioning him down to her level as if preparing to tell him a sacred secret. "Save it, I already know," she whispered back.   
  
  



End file.
